Whispers in the dark
by theraincanttouchus
Summary: New demon!Dean reflects about what the people that existed, and exists in his life will think about his new condition, while also starting to accept it.


A/N: Dean's gone and Crowley, according to the spoilers, won't be able to control him... and this was spawned by those thoughts, also a tiny, little bit of mentions of destiel sneaked in oops. Also this was heavily inspired by 'Dream a little dream of me' (in season 3) since it has one of my favorite scenes of Dean, so it's not exactly pro John.

The name's from the song 'Whispers in the Dark' by Skillet

Also, Thank you so much to WRATH77 for telling me about the error it had. I'm soooo embarrased like Omg I can't believe I let that happen in my first spn fic u_u I'm so sorry

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Dean was sitting on his bed, not moving, looking at everything with, quite literally, new eyes, more powerful eyes… demon eyes.

The first minutes of his "new life" rushed to his mind, Crowley had told him about how the Mark of Cain had transformed him into a… a demon, and hell even saying it on his own mind felt weird. The moment he stopped talking the "king of hell" found himself being quickly pushed against the wall by an invisible, crushing-bones force.

"You son of a bitch" Dean growled and was little surprised to find that his voice still sounded like HIS voice, it was rough and hoarse because, even if it had been for a small amount of time, he'd been dead, but apart from that it was just his voice, he wasn't sure of what he'd been expecting it to sound like but it was definitely not for it to sound like his voice. It just gave a weird sense of reality to all this crap "you knew this was gonna happen"

"I never lied to you, Dean" said the demon -or was it the other demon now?- in a constricted voice "I just skipped certain details that I wasn't completely sure were actually true" he added cautiously.

"Yeah 'cus that makes it all better, doesn't it" he said, twisting his wrist to put more force on the grip he had on the older demon. It was just like an instinct, some force within him was demanding to be let out and he just let it flow, he didn't think about it, and he was sure that if he thought about it he would lose any kind of control he might have over it.

"It was only a mean to an end, Dean, just like what you did with your broth..." he couldn't finish his argument for in that moment the pressure shifted, focusing on his throat.

"Don't you dare, you hear me? Don't you fucking dare to compare what I did, what I Had to do with your crap" he didn't know what higher, or rather lower, power had helped him with controlling his new powers, but whatever it had been, disappeared all of sudden, releasing the demon who deemed it better to flight than to fight.

Crowley got to his feet quickly, not wanting to test his luck 'This isn't over, Dean' the demon thought "Mark my words, Dean, you'll come to me when the time's right and it won't be to kill me" he said, voice rough and restrained, as his goodbye before Dean could take back the control of his powers, or reply.

"Damn it" he said kicking the bedside table, effectively destroying it.

And that's how he ended up here sitting on his bed, watching, what looked like, a new world to him, the colors were sharper, more defined, he could see every little detail in the room even though the dim light of the only left lamp.

This was so not good, how was he supposed to help anyone like this?

'Do you really want to keep helping ungrateful assholes that you don't even know?' he was startled by a voice on his head, it was smooth and clear, he pushed it aside, of course he'll do it, it was the family business.

But how'd he go on hunts if he was the same thing he needed to gank? Why couldn't he have died back there? He was perfectly okay with going down on a fight, that's how he'd been raised, and he'd found peace in death, in knowing that, if Cas managed to open heaven, he'd be able to go back to that place where he and Sam were lighting fireworks and his mom would make him a sandwich with the crust cut off, in knowing that he didn't have to pretend that he was strong and it didn't affect him that he was just a weapon.

Damn it, why do demons must think that fast? No wonder it was such a bitch getting rid of… them? Okay bad train of thought, he decided not to think about it, at least not right now, he needed to focus on something else.

His mind wandered on his last thoughts and that was the moment it hit him: fuck Cas. Was he still alive or… no that couldn't happen, Cas wouldn't go down so easily, he couldn't lose him again without even a freaking adios, but if he was alive… what would happen if when Cas came to the bunker?

'It's obvious dumbass, dude's an angel and he's gonna hate every single atom of you' the voice in his head said 'but hey who cares what that feathery ass thinks anyway? You're a knight of hell dude, which means you're powerful as hell, pun intended' and honestly, even if he hated to admit it, the voice was right, he didn't care as much as he knew he should, the thought was there but he could barely feel it.

However he couldn't quite stop the pain in his chest at the thought that Cas might hate him so he tried to push that it aside, no case in dealing with something that hadn't happened, yet.

But he was a demon now, and his stupid demonic brain couldn't stay quiet for more than a fucking second, not even to give him time to catch up, and this time he wondered, what would his dad think?

'Who cares?' the voice on his mind asked 'he was an obsessed bastard who only fucked you up, if you're here it's his fault so, who gives a damn about what he thinks?' he knew the voice was right but he pushed it aside.

Dad would kill him that was for sure, he'd ordered him to kill Sam at the mere possibility of him being a demon, but besides that, he'd surely be disappointed especially since all of this was his fault, Cain had tried to tell him that there would came a great burden with the mark after all, and he hadn't fucking listened, he'd gone all for it without thinking, his eyes in the goal all the time without even once sparing a glance to the road or what was after that goal for that matter. Dad had always told him that that wasn't the way a hunter thinks, that you needed to measure every single outcome and take care of it, but no!, here he was, transformed into a demon and all because not reading the warning at the back of the box and he was so freaking sure his dad would hunt him down, he could still his words in his head, clear as a bell, telling him to either save Sam or kill him, and that was only for the possibility of his youngest, who'd always been the favorite one while he was just a soldier, and asset in the war, becoming a monster. He'd definitely kill him without hesitation.

Incredibly the thought wasn't half as bad as he expected, in fact the voice in his mind just smirked, 'Let him try it' it said.

That was the moment he remembered, that, according to Crowley, and he was so going to kill that stupid son of a bitch, Sammy was down trying to summon the king of hell to make a deal, and maybe it was his sharper demon mind or just his gut, as usual, but he knew that his little brother wasn't going to make a deal, he knew Sam, and Sam had proved over and over again that he also knew Dean way too well for him to pull a stunt like that, no, his brother was seeking help but not through kindly asking but through blood, a sadistic smirk appeared in his face before he could control it, at the image of his little brother torturing Crowley, smirk that vanished the moment he wondered, what would Sam's reaction be? After all that crap of 'we aren't brothers anymore' after the incident with Gadreel, 'it was a lie' his potent mind reminded him, and it was the first good thing that came out of it.

He still didn't know whether Sam would kill him, fall into denial and try to exorcise him just before discovering that this was indeed him, accept it or try to cure him, and that was the scariest one.

He'd be fan-freaking-tastic with dying, the part where his brother was the one that did it was less appealing but he'd be in peace, except for the fact that he wasn't any other demon he was a knight of hell and there was no way of killing one without the blade **and** the mark which he wasn't about to let Sammy use, they'd fall into a vicious cycle, there wasn't that much to do if he tried to exorcise him, and a morbid part of him wondered what would feel like to be exorcised or if he was even able of that since this was His meat suit… body… whatever, he didn't know what would happen if Sam came to terms with it, but if he tried to cure him, well lets just say that he'd seen how that had worked with Crowley and he wasn't about to submit himself to that. Besides, there was proof that demons could be cured but there wasn't anything about if knights of hell could be cured.

'But you don't want to be cured right? you like this, you feel lighter than you've felt in years don't you?' the voice was silky and tempting but, again, he ignored it, this time was harder to do it but he managed it.

Maybe Cas would know… nope stop right there, he told himself, there wasn't any need for that little hot angel to know this… 'Not yet' the voice suggestively said.

It was funny though, the fact that he'd never believed in angels, the fact that he'd been surprised when Sammy told him that he prayed every day, and that he'd never believed his mother when she used to tell him that angels were watching over him, not after she died anyway, and now he was the one who'd truly had an angel watching over him, he was the one who'd prayed every day and night, even if it wasn't to God.

He smiled at the memory of his mother, she'd always been so good with him, she wanted him to play and live a nice apple-pie life because she hadn't had it, she was a hunter and damn was she good, she was so badass and such a babe.

To think that she'd said that the worst, the very worst, she could imagine was for her children to grow up as hunters used to break his heart, because he'd hurt her, no mattering the fact that he didn't choose this life, the fact that he was fucking thrown to this life by an obsessed bastard who couldn't protect his family, it didn't matter, because after all he'd had the opportunity of having an apple-pie life and he'd screwed it up, just like everything else in his life, and maybe she wouldn't care about that, maybe she could've understood why he was a hunter, but this? She'd never understand this; he was a disgrace an abomination. He was no different from the very thing that damned their family into this life… no different from the things she used to kill. The things that they all used to kill…

'So? She was the one who damned you all, if she hadn't made that deal with yellow eyes you wouldn't have had to go through all this' the voice sang, he pretended not to hear it.

He now was the last knight of hell and all the hunters would be on his trial, or maybe not, it wasn't like they'd done that much against Abaddon after all, and now that he thought about it, were there hunters still? surely not many and whatever little there were, they were unorganized since Garth had left the job to become part of a werewolf pack… well at least he wasn't the only monster, yeah like that helps Dean, and Garth had only been a replacement for Bobby.

Holy shit Bobby, Bobby must be so freaking mad, he raised him better than this, Dean still could remember how angry the older man had been after he sold his soul for his brother and in the shitty scale this was even worse than that…

'Oh fuck, no the alcoholic surrogated father' the voice laughed and this time he did shut it, Bobby had always wanted the best for him, even if he knew that there weren't that many good things for a hunter, but he wanted him to be happy and here was him turned into a demon… Well done Winchester.

'But can't you see it Dean? You can be happy now, tell me that you don't feel it. The peace that exists in not giving a fuck, in not carrying the world on your shoulders anymore' it felt like it was caressing him, even though it was only a voice in his head, and honestly, he started to want to just fall into it.

Something pulled him out of his mind suddenly, it was the sound of voices, they were muffled for the distance and the walls but he could still hear them, if only faintly.

"Moose I knew you would call, even if I must said I'm a little offended that you didn't do it before" there was a muffled thud followed by a suffocated scream, the process was repeated another time, and another before he could hear his brother's voice talking again.

"Now you listen to me Crowley, you're going to bring my brother back or I swear…" there were some steps, tools being moved, followed by a gasp.

"You wouldn't" the voice was low and strangled, there was no doubt it was Crowley and there was also no doubt that he still hadn't healed from his previous encounter with Dean, he smirked at this.

"Don't try me" he hear him say, the voice was dark and held so much fury that it was hard to believe it was Sam, but he knew it was him.

"It's a nice effort Moose but I'm afraid that it won't work" he was trying to sound smug but Dean noticed that his voice was trembling, trying to convince himself more than Sam.

Sam chuckled slowly and menacing, there was something about it that sounded hollow and made him wonder whether he should be worried or not, he was inclined for the later and it surprised him how easy it was to just ignore everything that could've bothered him before.

"Crowley I know everything about being a blood junkie and I can assure you, falling for it comes easier the second time"

Those words took Dean back to a time when Sam, that little bitch, had betrayed him for another bitch, the funny part? She was a demon

'Well then he isn't that opposite of your new nature' the voice said mocking him. And you know what the funniest part was? He didn't give a rat's ass about it. During years that incident had upset the hell out of him, but now? Now it didn't matter anymore, it didn't hold the same weight it used to, he chuckled.

This was his opportunity, he realized, Sam was busy playing to be a gangster with Crowley and he wouldn't notice. He was a demon and honestly, he didn't feel like dealing with Sam bitch face right now, besides the only thing he'd do would be fucking his life, again, so what better way to stop fucking with his younger brother life, like he'd had all this year, hell all his damn life, than to do, to really do this time, the thing he'd decided was best for them. He'd disappear, maybe not forever but long enough for him to figure everything up.

'Oh c'mon, don't shit yourself like that, he's been more of a burden for you than you a problem for him' the voice said annoyed, as it were getting tired of him 'let's ditch the little bitch and have some fun' this time he didn't try to ignore it, he didn't only let it engulf him, he embraced it, and it felt so good, it felt like freedom.

He stood up, ready to leave, that was the moment when he noticed that the blade was still in his hand, he absently whished he could throw it away, this all of this, was that damn thing fault, but he couldn't, there was a sort of peace attached to it, like he needed it to be whole again, so he gripped it tighter, deciding to leave and wait in some random place to see if Sam released Crowley so he could kill him. Dean started to walk to the exit, looking one last time at his room, the one place on earth he'd ever been able to call his own and threw a goodbye look to his memory foam mattress, to his weaponry collection, to his vinyl collection, to everything in general, however, he wasn't able to even spare a glance to his mother's picture, so he just skipped it and left.

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Thank You for reading

Love you


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